


Men of Few Words

by writingkiwi



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: AU, Language Barrier, M/M, Orc Tribe Fjord, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 16:04:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17103716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingkiwi/pseuds/writingkiwi
Summary: After a mishap on a mission for Soltryce Academy Caleb Widogast finds himself stranded when a half orc comes to his rescue.





	Men of Few Words

“Why are we even being sent out here? It's probably just some dumb sailor superstition” Eodwulf grumbled glaring out the endless sea.

 

Astrid pats his shoulder, “You can admit you're seasick you know?”

 

Eodwulf grumbles and grips the railing tighter. Caleb catches this in his peripheral vision and chuckles under his breath. 

 

“Ikathon believes it could be a risk to the Empire so we have to investigate.” Astrid reminds him calmly.

 

Caleb looks up from his book at that. “It could also be powerful source magic which he will want for the academy.” He says academy he really means Ikathon wants that potential power for himself.

 

Astrid turns her attention on Caleb. “What are you even doing with that book? Would it will you to enjoy the outdoors? We don't get to see the ocean everyday.” She puts a hand on her hip to emphasise her judgement.

 

Caleb rolls his eyes. “I am documenting our mission, because  _ someone  _ has to. Precise records are very important to new discoveries.”

 

Astrid's hand makes a mocking talking gesture. “What's the use of your  _ perfect _ memory if you can't use it for this?”

 

Caleb stiffens. “A written record is a precaution, if we are out here too long my memory will suffer and if I am to perish this record may survive.”

 

Astrid grimaces, “Well that's pessimistic of you.”

 

“Practical.”

 

Astrid holds his gaze clearly disagreeing, and breaks it as she turns back to comforting their seasick friend. Caleb returns to documenting the mission so far and tunes out the rest of the world as he intently focuses on his duty. 

 

Despite Caleb’s perfect tracking of the time he’s so absorbed in his work he doesn’t notice how late it is until he can barely read the words he’s writing, and drops of rain start staining the page. He shakes himself from his daze and looks out at the main deck, the sky is now pitch black not a star in sight. The few deckhands up on the deck are obscured in the dark and appear as amorphous blobs as they move about. Caleb closes his notebook and places it inside the pocket on the inside of the jacket. As he stands his legs lose balance and he’s thrown against the railing, he thought he’d gotten his sea legs by now but apparently not. Sea spray splashes up against the railing and dampens Caleb’s sleeves, he turns to ask one of the deckhands what’s going on when the booming of thunder reverberates through him and he’s blinded by a white flash. Disoriented and head thrumming Caleb tries to brace himself against anything that will take his weight, but before he can regain a grip on the railing the ship lurches and Caleb’s feet are no longer on a solid surface. The momentum of his body makes his gut lurch and a force slam into his back. An intense chill embraces his body and his eyes sting with sea salt. His vision tunnels and as he realises he is drowning he recites an invocation causing the last of his air to escape in bubbles before him.

 

The heavy weight of seawater has left him, but once again he’s in motion and his gut complains. Before Caleb can figure out what is happening he impacts with a sandy ground and pain shoots up his leg. The searing pain punches a screech out of him and in an effort to not cause himself anymore pain he holds as still as possible. From his prone position in the sand he can see it’s still night time, but wherever he is the storm has missed. The ocean is crashing not to far away but he fell facing a jungle. 

 

Caleb wants nothing more than to fall unconscious and deal with all of this in the morning, but he knows if he doesn’t act now he’ll catch hypothermia from his soaked clothes and the chances of being attacked by whatever wildlife lurks in the jungle is too high for him to ignore. Careful not to disturb whatever injury is plaguing his leg he careful eases up into a sitting position. He turns his gaze on his leg and wishes he hadn’t because the sight of his leg bent the wrong way makes him light headed and dry retch.

 

Mentally flicking through his spell book Caleb curses Ikathon for making them invest so heavily in evocation that he has nothing useful to set a broken leg. Why did he agree to the group stash of health potions being kept in Astrid’s haversack. Just as he’s considering trying to set his leg with his bare hands he hears rustling in the jungle treeline. He whips his head towards the noise and his heart freezes at the sight of two bright yellow glints of reflective eyes much like those of Frumpkin. 

 

Those eyes are much bigger and much higher than Frumpkin’s. With no hesitation Caleb hurls a fire bolt towards whatever that thing is. The creature lets out a startled yelp and dodge’s the fire. The distance between Caleb and the treeline is frightfully small and in an attempt to scare it off and maybe protect himself Caleb pulls ome phosphorous from his component pouch and conjures a wall of fire. The flames dance up from the sand and Caleb really wishes the spell had more length, because if the creature that’s spotted him is intelligent it’ll know it can just get to Caleb by going around the fire.

 

The creature slowly steps out of the shadows and is illuminated by the wall of fire. Before Caleb stands a humanoid figure a bit taller than himself. The person before him has pointed ears but the two toned green skin lets Caleb know this is an orc. They hold up their hands in the universal sign of “I mean no harm.” Caleb has no experience with orcs, but he’s read about the varying nations and tribes in the world, some trade with the human kingdoms, but there are many infamous raider tribes. Caleb can’t tell which is standing before him. As the orc steps closer the fire makes their features more apparent, yellow serpentine eyes, black hair shaved short on the sides with a couple white streaks, a strong jawline, the trademark tusks, and surprisingly slim for an orc. They’re shirtless and wearing cloth wrapped around the waist  as a skirt. The cloth doesn’t have any patterns Caleb can recognise as a specific tribe marking. The orc says something but Caleb doesn’t understand orcish, if he had a spare ten minutes he could cast comprehend languages. The orc seems to realise Caleb can’t understand them and their shoulders slump.

 

“You wouldn’t happen to speak common would you?” Caleb’s grasping at straws and will accept any victory at this point. The furrowed brow of the orc dashes those faint hopes.

 

Caleb just collapses back into the sand accepting his fate. Either the orc is gonna kill him or help him and he can’t do anything about it regardless. He hears the sand shifting as the orc approaches and suddenly there’s a two tone green face looming over his and Caleb is struck by how handsome this orc is. The orc mutters something to themself and walks off to the tree line, Caleb watches as they search the jungle floor for something. They come back with two sticks in hand and kneel beside Caleb once more. Caleb flinches at the sound of ripping fabric and glances down to see tough orc claws ripping through the leg of the pants on his broken leg. As the fabric is removed the broken limb looks so much worse Caleb has to look away. The orc mumbles something and sharp pain shoots through Caleb and he screams before blacking out.

 

When Caleb claws out of the grips of unconsciousness he’s surprised to not feel the sway of the sea he’d grown used to. “Are we there already?”

 

The breeze tickling his skin alerts him to the fact he’s not in his cabin on the ship. He bolts upright and blinks the sleep fog from his eyes. The light of the day stings his eyes a bit, but as they adjust he takes stock of his surroundings. He’s on land on a shore, with an orc sleeping on bed of leaves on the sand next to him. The memory of last night returns to him and he forces himself to breathe slowly and not spiral into a panic. He risks a peek at his broken leg and is surprised to see it in a makeshift splint fashioned from his ruined pants leg and some sticks. Caleb notices that he is now situated on a bed of leaves even though he remembers blacking out with the uncomfortable itch of sand beneath him. He spots his coat and shirt folded neatly next to him and is grateful his saviour clearly understood the threat that could have posed.

 

At least he now knows this orc isn’t an immediate threat. They are outside the jurisdiction of The Empire however where it is more likely to encounter a foe than a friend. He remembers the orc didn’t understand common which is going to make information gathering difficult to say the least. He pulls out his spell book and is grateful the enchantment on it prevented water logging. FLicking through the pages Caleb searches for anything that could allow him to communicate with his saviour. Comprehend languages could work, but it would only work one way. Tongues would be ideal but he doesn’t have he component for it.  Caleb has never encountered someone who doesn’t speak common. How isolated is this orc to not know the universal trade language? 

He wishes he had is cat right now, he could really use the comfort. Reaching into his component pouch he’s relieved to find the incense not ruined by the seawater. Glancing around for some kind of bowl to contain the spell he finds nothing on the beach and lets out a pained whine. He doesn’t have his cat. He doesn’t have his friends. His friends! Did the ship survive the storm? Could Astrid and Eodwulf even find him out here? He’s gonna die out here with saviour he can’t even thank because they don’t share a language.

 

A hand taps his shoulder causing Caleb to yelp in shock. He faces the orc who is laughing at his expense.

 

“Sure laugh at the injured wizard why don’t you?”

 

The orc blinks clearly not understanding what was said, but they do point at Caleb’s injured leg with raised eyebrows. Caleb interprets this as a question. He’s not sure if thumbs up is a universal signal but he does it anyway, and nods and smiles just in case the message doesn’t get through.

 

The orc grins at him and then points at themself. “Fjord.” Then points at Caleb.

 

“Fjord? Is that your name?” Caleb realises the redundancy of his question and sighs.

 

He points at himself and tries to smooth out his accent, “Caleb.”

 

Fjord nods and repeats it back to him. “Caleb?”

 

Caleb nods and smiles. He holds out has hand expectantly. The orc takes it for a hand shake, but Caleb reaches out and repositions their hands so they’re gripping each other’s wrists. He looks into those yellow serpentine eyes.

 

“Danke Fjord”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks Billy for the title
> 
> Next chapter will be Fjord's pov and I'm now realising the challenge of not writing dialouge cos I love that shit.


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